Truths and Secrets
by brightsparx
Summary: Brian Cassidy has always been a hot-head, his temper and his impulsive actions have caused him many problems over the years, but this time it has gone too far. He has single-handedly caused a mistrial in a child abuse case...and Reggie has already suffered far too much. Brian goes to the DA to plead for whatever can be done to help Reggie, uncovering his own secrets along the way
1. Truths and Secrets

**A/N : ***Huge spoilers for Season 19 Episode 14 "Chasing Demons"**

 **(My Twist on the incredible scenes: Barba is still the DA and the last episode "The Undiscovered Country did not happen)**

 **The final scenes of this episode fired my imagination in a way SVU has not, in a very long time. As Barba is no longer the DA, the only way I could write this was if I discount his departure and I found myself slipping back into the characters of "I told her that this was necessary" and "Some Memories don't dim".**

 **It is not necessary to have ready any of my other stories.**

* * *

CASSIDY

My heart is racing...

As I step up to the bar, I worry that at my age, this is the beginning of a heart attack.

I try to look calm, swallowing back the fear and shame... this is my boss, and as much as I don't want to do this, as much as want to run away and hide...I can't.

I have to do... **something**...

" _Hey, no! I'm good, Johnny...thanks."_

Fuck! I regret the words before they're even out of my mouth. How much easier a couple of drinks might make this...? But really there's nothing that has yet been invented that is really going to make this any "easier"...so it's time I just get on with it...

" _What, are you here to fall on your sword?"_

The lawyer barely raises his eyes to see who is sliding onto the stool. These words are delivered more to the file he is working on...

He's pissed at me...his tone and the tightened jaw leave no doubt.

I know he has every right to be...even by my standards, I have fucked up **big**!

I would love to turn tail and run...to not face this man, or this problem.

But for once, I want to do better...I need to stand up for this kid...

" _I heard that Reggie confessed..."_

" _Yeah, he did!"_

A man that is renowned for being straightforward is not looking me in the eye...and I know that is not a good sign. His minimal confirmation almost spat out.

" _I mean, can you cut this kid a deal?"_

My voice doesn't sound right...I sound out of breath...but I can't stop now...

" _Don't you think he's suffered enough?"_

This raises his eyes from the file...and I begin to wish he would go back to not looking at me again...I'm not sure I can do this, when he looks at me like that...

" _So, you total my case, you, uh, run from a murder scene, you hole up with a fellow officer, and now you're telling me how to do my job?"_

I battle to keep his eye...he needs to see me...to understand...but as he mentions Liv, his fury is all too clear.

I know that him and Liv are together...that they're happy...and the fact that she hid me, from him, has caused problems...

" _Okay, so then fire me then, all right? I deserve that. I get that. But not Reggie. Come on, man..."_

My default is to fire back...hot-headed Cassidy...but I try to rein in my temper, to control my mouth...

I know that what Liv has with this man is...more...than she ever had with me...and I have to trust her. I have to trust that the man she loves, can help the kid...

I know his reputation: he is tough but fair...and even though I'm definitely the wrong man to be sitting here pleading for a favor...I have to...

" _After what West did to him? This kid's gonna be chasing demons away the rest of his life."_

I know I'm starting to show my hand...the man in front of me seems to be surprised it's the kid I'm here to plead for not myself, and he is studying me carefully...noticing every inflection, every nuance of my speech, my behavior. Cataloguing every grimace, every expression.

" _Every relationship...Every time this kid looks into a mirror...there's just -there's gonna be this looming shadow there."_

I wasn't able to look him in they eye. I wanted to...to be a man as I laid myself bare...but I couldn't...and when I sneak a quick glance at him, I can see he is putting the pieces together...

Again my eyes slide down to the bar...and the silence that falls, makes me feel sick...

Finally, with a small sigh, he softly says... _"Olivia didn't tell me."_

His tone is questioning...he wants confirmation that he has understood...but he's also trying to tell me that she kept my secret...

" _Olivia doesn't know..."_ I explain.

This surprises him...of course it does. He knows we were together...He knows we were together when Lewis...

I reluctantly meet his eye again...I need him to understand...

His eyes close as he sees my truth.

He sighs gently.

His head nodding slightly as the all pieces drop into place.

" _That's why I left...All those years ago, I just – I couldn't handle SVU."_

Fuck! But that was harder to say than I had expected...and I have to struggle to hold myself together...

All at once I'm battling to hold the words in, and let them out...they've been a lifetime in hiding...

" _It was my Little League coach..."_

I can't look another man in the eye as I say any of this...but I can't **not** glance at him every few words...looking for a reaction...both expecting, and terrified of, the disgust that is bound to show at any moment...

His face has fallen, and his hand scrubs across it as he leans further into the conversation.

" _Yeah, truth is, though, it only went on for a couple of months..."_

This time when my gaze nips back up to him, he shakes his head...

He looks like he's about to say something so I rush to fill the silence...

" _And then, my father found out..."_

He nods his head softly...allowing me to control the conversation. I'm grateful, and for the first time I begin to see what Liv does.

" _...He beat the crap out of the guy."_

Now it's his turn to look away with another sigh...but he quickly lifts his eyes again, meeting mine and holding the contact...there's no admonishment, only sad understanding...

" _Look...How about Reggie?"_ I plead.

I'm not here for the sympathy I can see in his green eyes. It gives me relief and at the same time, makes me queasy...

I don't want to give him any chance to follow-up...I just want to make sure he understands...

I know he has become a champion for victims...I know he recognizes how damaging the crimes that SVU deals with can be...

I hate myself for thinking it, but he has to have seen some of the more personal consequences and aftermath with Liv...and he was always there for her during the trial...but...

I'm not sure it's different...not really...but I don't think it's the same either...not for a kid like Reggie...not for a kid like I was...

It's not... **manly**...

I hate myself for even thinking it...but it's not something that happens to a strong, straight, alpha-man...

I know so much better...but that's how it feels...

Like **this** can only happen to a guy who is...weak...

The man before me seems to understand that I can't hear any sympathy, or attempts at comfort... **I** , am not what this is about.

" _I'll see what I can do."_ he assures me with a nod that is acknowledging everything...

" _Fair enough. Thank you."_

I know he means it and I try to smile, but it turns into more of a grimace.

" _Yeah..."_ he mutters offhandedly...and before he can say anything else I slip off the stool.

My hand rubs my mouth as I walk away, almost as if I could rub away the words that have just escaped...

As I close the door behind me, I feel both stronger, and almost too weak to walk away, at the same time...

The very last thing I need, is to see the woman walking towards me when all of my defenses are down...and yet...

" _Hey, Liv."_

I think she is even more surprised to see me...

" _Brian..."_

" _I was just inside, begging Barba not to fire me."_

I'm not sure why that's what I said...I guess it was the most logical reason to have been in with the man she is here to meet...and I'm so desperate to keep the truth from her...to explain my presence...

It just feels like too little, too late, for her to find out now...like it would be somehow, manipulative, after all this time...like I'd be trying to blame all my faults, my bad decisions, my _problems_...on ancient history...

I should have told her so long ago...there were plenty of opportunities even before Lewis...plenty of conversations about SVU when we were both there, and my subsequent departure, although she never judged me for leaving. I told her, I couldn't handle it...and she accepted that without question.

And **after** Lewis...she was so raw...she needed me to be strong for her. She didn't need me adding to her pain.

And to be completely honest, I felt ridiculous to be comparing such a small thing, to the horrors she went through at that monster's hands...

And all the things I imagined, they changed things...I found it hard...

I couldn't be responsible for hurting her...we changed...

But the strongest reason...I don't want her to know...I don't want anyone to know...

" _How'd that go?"_ she asks, peering through the window for any signs of trouble...

I guess I can't blame her.

Not after my carry on in the bar a few days ago...

" _I don't know. We'll see."_

I'm only partly answering her question...I've just looked in, to see the DA hunched over his file, and it occurs to me that despite everything, I am no longer wholly in control of my secret...

By confessing to Barba, in a plea for Reggie, she may find out...

Somehow, this knowledge gives me the freedom to say anything...

" _Hey Liv, I'm real sorry about what happened, really."_

" _You would've done the same thing for me."_ she shoots back immediately.

I can only agree with a mumbled _"yeah"._

She tries to end the conversation with a gentle _"Take care"_ but this is important, and I need to say more...

" _Hey, about Noah..."_

She turns, and I can see she is about to shut me down...

" _Just hear me out, please."_

For a second she looks like she is going to walk away but she seems to rethink as she sees me rubbing my mouth...she knows all of my tells...and she seems to recognize this...so gives me a chance...

" _Look...I - -I, uh - -I wasn't airing your dirty laundry to the DA. I was actually - - I was airing mine."_

" _What does that mean?"_

" _Uh, I- -"_

Yep, great job there Brian...making absolutely no sense...

" _I just- -I- -I was- - I was trying to explain to Morrison what had happened between you and I."_

Fuck but this is not coming out the way I meant...

" _I- -I had no idea that you were under investigation. I would never, ever, ever do anything to intentionally hurt Noah or you..."_

She is listening, and I'm not sure if she doesn't believe me, or she can't believe how stupid I was... I can live with her being amazed at how stupid I was, I can't believe I was that dumb myself...but I can't walk away with her thinking I would hurt her...

" _...I mean, come on now. You're the love of my life."_

I didn't mean the words to escape...but they're true and I can only hope she can see that...

As her head shoots up in surprise, I feel relief that they too, are out there...

" _Sorry, Brian, I don't - - I don't know where that's coming from. We broke up a- - a long time ago."_

She seems a bit confused and a little uncomfortable, but she doesn't seem to think I'm lying... and in that moment I realize that I'm getting a chance to say a real goodbye. Our break up was calm and adult, I was very proud of how 'well' we handled it...but I need something else...

I know she is happy now. I want her to be happy...and I know that it really wasn't working between us...

" _I know that. You and I, we had a lot of good times together, a lot of mutual love and respect for one another but please, you got to ad- -admit to me that...you were never gonna bare your soul to me...eh...eh...Am I right?"_

She takes a moment to consider my request.

She seems to understand it for what it is...an honest question...something I need to know to get some sort of closure...

She smiles sadly at me, letting me see her regret, and her love... _"Yes, you are."_

" _Okay"_ is all I can find to answer with. It's a bittersweet confirmation but it's also freeing...

I'm not sure which of us reaches out first but we fall into a warm, comfortable hug, both of us squeezing tight.

As we break apart, it finally feels like all the unfinished business between us is resolved...

But I'm close to breaking...it's all too much...it has been a night of truths, some so deeply buried that the holes they've left behind are too fragile, and liable to complete collapse...

" _Go inside. It's cold."_

She doesn't move for a second but because she knows me too well, she understands I need her to walk away.

She walks into the bar I have just left and I disappear back into the night. Incredibly grateful for the closure she has given me, and terrified that she will soon know my shameful secret.


	2. Understanding

RAFAEL

It's a battle not to turn around, as Cassidy walks away, but it is clear that he does not want me to.

I clench my jaw until it hurts, to allow him the privacy of his exit, when all I want to do is stop him and tell him how wrong he is...It wasn't _only_ a couple of months...it was not okay then, and it is not okay now, that he still holds that secret so deep inside.

I take a few deep breaths, trying to organize my thoughts.

 **Fuck!**

When I saw him slipping onto the stool, I was so angry at him...for torpedoing my case, for going to Liv...and for her hiding him from me.

I assumed he was here to plead for his job... God I hated the man in that moment!

I was never a Cassidy fan...the man is an impulsive, childish, hot-head! I could never see what Liv saw in him...but as my relationship with Liv has grown, I have come to feel a sympathy, and a strange kinship with him. It is incredibly hard to build a relationship with someone who has been through what Liv has survived, and despite my reservations about the man, Cassidy supported Liv in the immediate aftermath of Lewis' first attack, and I can't imagine how hard those weeks must have been for him too.

Liv and I are in a good place, but it has taken a lot of work, trust and talking...and I know she worries that she damaged Cassidy, in the time they were together **after**...

There was a time I would have scoffed at such a worry...dismissed it as a non-issue, and made some off-handed comment about a _strong_ man being able to deal with it all...Then, I would have rolled my eyes, at any sign of concern for him and merely pointed out that _she_ was the one who suffered a horrible attack... But after Amanda disclosed Patton's rape to me, and after being lucky enough to be trusted by Liv to be a part of her healing, I have learned how high a toll helping a survivor can take.

I am incredibly fortunate, Liv's work family has taken me to heart too, they are there for me, and they support me too. Fin introduced me to a fantastic support group for men supporting friends and partners through the aftermath of sexual violence that sometimes has been all that made it possible for me to keep going...

But in those first weeks, after Lewis, I don't think anyone really thought of Cassidy...

Her squad looked out for him while she was missing...it was their way of caring for _her_ when she was was _gone_...but after that...I think we all forgot about him while we focused on Liv.

I feel guilty, now, for that oversight.

Munch was more friendly with him, than the majority of the squad...they were partners when Cassidy was SVU...but he was almost alone, dealing with the horrific consequences of Lewis' torture, when Liv was fighting against needing help.

I lean back on the stool, fighting down the queasiness.

I hate saying it, but this revelation, explains so much... I understand Cassidy so much better now...and I feel terrible for thinking it.

He is so much more than a man who was molested by his Little League coach... but keeping this secret all these years... _that_ has clearly had a huge effect...

As I slowly digest his disclosure, I once more, find myself wishing that I had dealt with it better than I did. I wish I had been more eloquent, and reacted better...

As I did, immediately after Amanda's disclosure of Patton's assault, I find myself lamenting my bumbling inaction...

Even with all of my experience, I still can't properly react as I would wish to, when someone I know makes such an admission. No amount of training, or understanding, helps when someone you know whispers such words.

I know Cassidy did not want my sympathies or attempts at comfort...he didn't come to _me_ for far too overdue whispered pities, and hugely belated anger for the child he was.

He came to me, trusting me with his immense secret, to try to help Reggie.

I smile sadly...this is the man that Liv loved.

Tears are pricking my eyes at this understanding. There is no jealousy in me for Brian Cassidy. I have long ago understood that he is Liv's past, and that he played an important part in helping her, when she so needed it, and I will always be grateful to him for that.

I feel true sympathy for the child's pain I can still see bright in the eyes of the man.

And I have no earthly idea what I should do now...

Should I try to speak to him again, about this? Or should it be something left in that one conversation?

Our complicated relationship would not make approaching him an easy prospect... Cassidy is Liv's ex after all...

This simple fact brings forth yet another dizzying understanding... Liv doesn't know.

I know she would want to know...wouldn't she?

He didn't ask me not to tell her, I immediately try to reason.

I want, desperately, to tell her...I'm shocked, sickened by what he suffered, and I'm struggling with the contradiction of his understanding of the long shadows his experience has cast over his whole life, and his seeming disregard for the abuse itself.

" _...it only went on for a couple of months..."_

My shoulders drop...my mind unable to ignore the incredibly telling use of the word _only_...there is **no** appropriate use for the word 'only' in sexual violence... ' _only'_ means some sort of mitigation...a qualifier... a lessening...a self-deprecating _"it could have been worse"..._

We are never going to be friends, Cassidy and I, he is my partner's ex...but I would like things to be congenial when we cross paths... and tonight's revelation feels like it has given me the piece of the puzzle that has finally humanized the prickly man who always managed to irritate me, despite my efforts to get along with him.

I find myself slightly in awe of him, when I understand that he came to the man who is in a relationship with his ex...a man who is by nature of that relationship, closer to foe than _friend_ **...** to lay bare a secret so deeply held, that he never even told her, and I have never once doubted his feelings for Liv...

I feel an immeasurable responsibility to live up to the trust such an action has conferred upon me.

I try to shake off all my personal feelings...this is not about me...

I was never blind to the complexities of Reggie's case, or to the seemingly unsolvable injustice of needing to prosecute a hurt and damaged kid who resorted to murder to protect his younger brother from a predator, but now I resolve to do everything I can.

I take a sip of the scotch that has been all but forgotten, in the events of the last moments...perhaps Rita Calhoun could be persuaded to represent Reggie? **She** is exactly who he needs by his side...

I start trying to find facts to allow me to reduce the charges, precedents I can quote to support moving the case to juvenile court...anything I can do to lessen the demons and shadows for the child.

" _Every relationship...Every time this kid looks into a mirror...there's just -there's gonna be this looming shadow there."_

Cassidy's words are stuck in my head...and I curse my ability to recall facts so clearly.

" _This kid's gonna be chasing demons away the rest of his life."_

Those words are going to haunt me for a long time...

I drop my head into my hands, wishing I could forget the uncertainty, the pain and the shame etched onto Cassidy's face as he said them. That horrible vulnerability as he tried to explain what Reggie was already living with, in the only way he knew how...

A familiar hand wraps itself around my back, and I struggle not to let Liv see any hint of my internal tumult.

Greeting her by pulling her into my arms tightly, I kiss her gently, allowing her presence to calm me. She gratefully melts into my arms and I immediately sense that she too, is upset.

" _Liv? Are you ok?"_

She nods quickly, not wanting to worry me, then sighs lightly, gesturing outside...

" _I...I just saw Brian..."_

She unconsciously leans against me, something she only does when she is really upset...

I can only jump to the conclusion that he told her...and if I am battling with the emotions of this bombshell, I can only imagine how she feels, so I stay quiet and allow her to find her balance...

" _He...he..."_ she starts to stutter, then looks me right in the eye tucking even tighter into my side... _"you know I love you Rafael?"_

I nod quickly, smiling warmly at her...she is worried I will mistake her upset for her ex, for lingering feelings for him... I pull a stool as close to me as possible, wrapping an arm around her and reaching for her hand.

She drops into the offered seat speaking quietly, _"There was never a big argument, no bad feeling between us...not really, it just reached an end..."_

I bob my head again, bracing for what is to come...

She chews her lip, another 'tell' that she is upset...

" _I wasn't the same..._ _ **after**_ _...and Brian was always very supportive...he tried everything...but...there was a disconnect between us. I don't know if it was just because of what happened?...It just wasn't working, and he seemed to understand that I needed... to be alone...to figure things out..."_

Her eyes are glassy now, she is wrapped up in the memories and trying to hold back tears...

" _I've been mad at him over the investigation into Noah...but I knew, really, he would never hurt me... I was glad he came to me when he was in trouble...what we had, it was never...like_ _ **this**_ _..."_ she gestures between us, and waits for me acknowledge that I understand what we have is very special...

Kissing her hand, I whisper softly, _"...but you loved him, mi amor..."_ saying the words for her, that she could never speak in front of me...

She barely tilts her head up and down once, as the tears start to roll down her cheeks...and I take her face between my hands kissing the tears away wordlessly.

" _I did...but I couldn't...let him in...I couldn't...bare my soul to him..."_

These last words seem to break her and it takes a few minutes before her sobs quiet enough to raise her head from my shoulder...

" _He just asked me that...to admit that I was never going to bare my soul to him...Rafael, he told me I was the love of his life..."_

Once more she dissolves into soft sobs...and I hold her to me...his words once more, flashing through my mind... _"Every relationship...Every time this kid looks into a mirror...there's just -there's gonna be this looming shadow there."_ I try not to imagine, how much he must have battled his own demons in Lewis' aftermath...how many times did he want to tell her, he _understood,_ not in that sympathetic ' _I_ _ **get**_ _that this is hard...'_ way... Or did what Lewis did, close that door to them forever?

I just hug her, until she lifts her eyes, a gentle smile pushing back the tears... _"It feels like we finally had a real goodbye...real closure..."_

I know how guilty she has felt, for a long time, about the impact Lewis' attack on her, had on Cassidy too, and I worry that this revelation is going to have a hugely detrimental effect on her...that she will blame herself even more for hurting him...but as she swipes the tears away quickly, muttering about _"crying over an ex to the man I love..."_ I can only look at her in surprise...

" _I'm sorry Rafael,"_ she starts _"I guess I didn't know I needed that closure..."_

She gently strokes my face, allowing me to see that Cassidy is very much in her past despite the conversation and tears, **I** am the man she loves...

As much as I enjoy the gesture, I am not threatened by Cassidy...she has dropped her walls to allow me to see her love for me, she is not hiding anything...and my stomach drops... **he didn't tell her!**

I scrub my hand across my face, before leaning my cheek into her palm.

" _Rough day?"_ she asks me and I can only bow my head.

" _He said he was in here pleading for his job?"_ she gestures out to where she had met Cassidy as he left me... and I put together what happened.

He had walked into her as he left me, and claimed to be trying to save his job to explain his presence... he was clearly emotional, after his disclosure, and needed closure as much as she did...

I nod distractedly to her question, trying to figure out if I should tell her, as she takes off her coat and I order her a glass of wine.

As my mind whirs, we settle comfortably into each other's presence...

He never asked me not to tell her, I remind myself once more. I know I am only trying to rationalize what **I** want to do...But it is not my secret to tell...the arguments battle silently back and forward...

" _Rafael?"_ she whispers in my ear... needing no more words to ask me what is wrong...

I sigh loudly...still no closer to a decision...

" _I'm still amazed by the secrets people can carry for so long..."_ I tell her. Hiding behind the knowledge that she will assume I'm talking about Reggie.

She takes my hand again, worrying her lip, _"We've made so much progress...but it's so hard to admit..."_

I can see she is thinking of her own secrets, the suffering she tried to keep private...from the attack she endured in Sealview, at Harris' hands, and the multitude of horrors perpetrated by Lewis.

" _It was not your fault Cariño!"_ I remind her as tenderly as I can, _"it is not your shame to carry..."_

She is an SVU cop, she knows this, it is something she tells many men and women every day, but sometimes she needs to hear it...she needs to be reminded.

She swallows deeply, her head bobbing up and down in agreement.

" _Thank you, Rafael."_

I hug her again, and as I usually do when I don't have an answer, I ask the woman beside me...once again hiding in her assumption we are still talking about Reggie...

" _Liv...why is it..._ _ **different**_ _...for men...boys...?"_

I would be afraid to ask this question of most people; worried they would see a gender bias in the query, wary that it is too politically incorrect an inquiry to ever speak.

She shrugs slightly, _"I don't know, I guess it's just not seen as 'manly'..."_ taking a sip of her drink, before continuing thoughtfully... _"I suppose men and boys, are afraid to be judged weak..."_

I know she is not judging me for the query; she is very open to discussing this odd dichotomy.

I lean forward _, "In our job, it is something I have thought about..."_ I begin, _"I see that sexual assault is not any sort of reflection on the victim... it is not about strength, either physical or mental...it is not about physical attractiveness...a victim can be anyone...there is nothing people do to invite a sexual predator to attack them..."_

She agrees with no hesitation...

" _So why do so few men and boys come forward?"_

She doesn't answer immediately now, considering...so I continue on...

" _Liv, a kid is a kid...how is an adult preying on a kid not the same, whether the kid is male or female?"_

I know, as well as her, that there is no answer to my question...it **is** the same...but yet it **isn't**...

I look around the bar, at the men and women sipping drinks, _"How many people here, Liv, are holding in the secret that they have been sexually assaulted?"_

She could recite the stats that she knows I am more than familiar with...but she just holds my hand, knowing I need to vent...

" _And when that kid is grown up...and the adult is still holding onto_ _that secret...which is more damaging? The secret, or the truth behind it?"_

She seems to wonder now, if we are still talking about Reggie... _"Rafael...what's...?"_

Before she can finish her question and I am forced to lie to her, or break a confidence, even one I never agreed to keep, I interject...

" _I'm sorry Liv. This whole thing has gotten under my skin...I was thinking, maybe, Rita might represent Reggie...I'm looking at the charges..."_

Her whole face brightens instantly. She immediately understands that I am doing what I can do to help him.

" _Counselor..."_ she begins softly, _"you are a very good man!"_ wrapping me into a warm hug.

She returns a couple of emails as I feign reading the file in front of me, while I try to figure out if Liv should know what Cassidy revealed to me tonight, when he wants to keep it from her? Have I the right to tell her his secrets? Would her support ease his pain? Or is the truth, a secret that only he can tell?

What do I do?


	3. The real Cassidy

CASSIDY

I only get a block away from the bar before the reality of the evening hits me...

 **Fuck!**

My stomach begins to roll as I realize what I've done, the sensation is all too familiar...I've fucked up once again.

Like a drunk waking up after a major bender, in my memory I'm doing things, saying things, I don't feel like I was really present for... but there's no denying this evening...

And as I would after a drunken binge, I battle to keep the contents of my stomach in place...

I can't claim to have put no thought into the visit to Barba...it was all I could think of, since I heard about Reggie's confession. But I never made a decision to go to the DA and tell him... **that**...

Not truly...

I wanted to make the lawyer understand what the kid was living with...what he would be dealing with, for so, so, long...

I needed to fix what I had caused, by my inability to control my mouth, and my long buried emotions... but I wouldn't...I couldn't say... **it**...

And then, as I have done so many times before, I just jumped in headfirst...hoping the things I couldn't deal with, but couldn't escape from, would just magically resolve themselves by running my mouth.

Even as I stepped up to him, I didn't really intend to tell Barba...

I expected him to be pissed at me... **Fuck!** I caused a mistrial! And even by my low standards, that's an all-time record... but the undisguised hatred he leveled at me as he listed off my fuck-ups... was shocking.

I did what I always do; I mouthed off... _"Fire_ _ **me**_ _then..."_

It wasn't what I intended to say...it wasn't even what I wanted to say... I'm not sure if this defense method of firing first, was always part of who I am, or if it developed... **after**...

But then, the truth just spilled out... the thoughts that had filled my mind, started to burst out of my mouth...I didn't quite say ... **it**...at first...but still, talking to a man like him, I gave myself away long before I finally admitted it. Saying _"it was my Little League coach"_ was the final confirmation... and it meant I never had to say the words I have spent a lifetime avoiding, whilst still disclosing my truth...

In that exchange with the DA, I felt myself do all the little things I've always worked so hard to avoid...all those little non-verbal 'tells'... _**victim**_ tells...

My whole demeanor changed, and I allowed the vulnerability of my 12 year old self, the kid who is still there, to show all too clearly.

I've spent so much of my life covering **it** up...hiding those tells so carefully behind bluster, behind aggression, behind being such an insufferable dick, that no one ever suspected...

It is a night of ghosts, as I remember that's not quite true...the mask has slipped before...I remember back to a day almost a lifetime ago, when the tears could no longer be held back. I hadn't been in SVU very long, I was determined not to show my weakness, I had planned I would just distance myself from what had happened to the 'vic'...after all it wasn't the same...there was no comparison between what had happened to me, and SVU's cases...but even with my best efforts, the emotions I tried to deny were way too similar; the pain, the betrayal, the guilt of the victims SVU dealt with...they were all too familiar to me.

When Cragen called me into his office and gave me the assignment to go speak to one of his "old" victims, I felt that maybe I had hidden my struggles well, that he trusted me, that I could make SVU work...but as I watched the tape he gave me, understood what had brought her to unit at the age of nine...it shattered me.

I was still deeply in denial...telling myself my captain didn't know, he had no suspicions about me, it was merely coincidence... But after I heard , from her, what she had been through for a second time...not just gang-rape, but being further assaulted by a supposed Good Samaritan...the effects I had been trying to hide, for too long, were all too evident when I tried to report to my boss...

When he pulled the bottle and glass out, I knew that my pretense had already failed abysmally... I remember wiping away tears as I tried to recount her experiences, while my commanding officer looked at me with undisguised sympathy, as he carefully swallowed down his own emotions.

He didn't ask, not then, not ever, I guess he didn't need to, he just offered up a transfer, which I grabbed...I needed to get away, I couldn't deal with everything that SVU brought up for me. I didn't try to fight him, I just asked _"Where?"._ His last words have stuck with me all this time _"It wouldn't be like_ _ **this**_ _, Brian..."._ It was like he understood there were no words that would truly describe all I was feeling, and wrestling with...

I don't think I ever admitted why I was leaving, not even to myself...I remember telling my partner, Munch, that I was still embarrassed buying condoms in a drugstore, how could I work sex crimes...?

I still sometimes wonder about the 16 year old girl that broke down the last of my defenses...I wonder how she is doing?

Just like the day I left SVU, I feel like I have let myself down...that I am weak...

I had no intention of bringing my long hidden, personal experiences to light...but as with that day in Cragen's office, today, there was no real plan to reveal myself. It just happened...my defenses were stretched too thin to hold out for one second longer...

If I'm honest though, my carefully guarded façade started to fail when I lost it on the stand; the perp was too familiar, he reminded me too much... It wasn't Detective Cassidy on that stand, it was the kid Brian, battling with **his** shame, **his** guilt, **his** fear that what happened made him less of a man even before he had left his childhood. I was afraid I would give myself away, and I let my long honed defenses take over, I went on the offense... completely ruining any chance of a guilty verdict for all those kids, and their devastated families.

I don't know what I expected the smart mouthed DA to say to my thinly veiled admission...to the reluctant explanation of my inexcusable behavior on the stand...but it wasn't _"Olivia didn't tell me"._

If I had any chance of controlling my mouth, **that** was it gone... it wasn't the sympathetic look that accompanied his words; or the implied request for confirmation he was understanding me correctly; it was his immediate instinct to let me know that Olivia had kept my secret...even from him, that decimated my shields.

There were so many times, I had considered telling her. Especially after Lewis...

The day I surprised her, and she pulled a gun on me, I pried it from her shaking hand, her emotions were so raw, she just cried into my chest as I held her, and she tried to apologize in between wracking sobs ... When I brushed aside her weeping words, she thought I didn't understand her over-vigilance, her seemingly irrational fear...she couldn't know how intimately familiar I was with them.

There were so many of those occasions, in those early weeks...so many times that she felt I couldn't understand how she was feeling, and I was never able to open up to her. And once the first opportunity was ignored, it got harder and harder, to then turn around and tell her the truth.  
Would it sound like I was diminishing her experiences by equating them with mine?  
Would it sound insincere, like a ploy to show false understanding?  
Would she question my account after so much silence?  
Would she even believe me?

I wish I could claim my reticence was because she never really shared **her** experiences with **me** , but I was just selfish. I didn't want the woman I loved to look at me the way she looks at her victims...

Despite knowing that she would never judge someone for being sexually assaulted, the fear that I would be less of a man in her eyes...I couldn't risk it.

Maybe that was part of what finally pushed us apart...

I desperately want to avoid being one of those people who blames all their personal defects on a bad experience. I don't want to be someone who carefully collects all my grievances, curating them and molding them into a 'get out of jail card' for any of my own bad behavior. I don't want a bad childhood experience, well, a **few** of them...to define me... But it does, in so many ways...

Sometimes, on a bad day, I sit on the side of my bed wondering what I did to attract **him**? I was a kid... in my head, I know I can't be held responsible...but I feel like I should have been more manly...fought him off... I never should have let it happen...Isn't that what a man does? A man, doesn't let anyone do something like **that**...

And then when it had happened the first time, I should have done something, **anything**...but I was almost more afraid of my father, my family, my friends, finding out. I would rather risk anything than let the other kids know how **soft** I was... I'm sure it wasn't only in my head, I'm sure I heard it said somewhere... _"Men don't get raped..."_

It seems ridiculous, but as time went on, and I frantically hid it from my dad, I started to believe he would reject me, if he ever found out. I thought he would be disgusted at me...that he would disown a son who was anything but the _"Big Guy"_ he thought he was raising.  
When he found out, and kicked the crap out of the coach, I'm still not sure if I was more relieved it was over, or that my Dad didn't wash his hands of me...

We never really talked about it much **after**. Dad handled the problem, I was safe, and he never really asked how I let it happen.

I tried to hide the effects, always afraid that if my Dad knew the whole story, he would be disgusted by me, that he would think that I wanted it, enjoyed it... that I was gay...

I coped the only way I knew how...I started getting aggressive, fighting, being what I thought a strong man was...I was never going to be anyone's victim again.

And maybe when I didn't tell Olivia, all those times when she thought I couldn't understand...I was still fighting not to be seen as a victim...

I've always found relationships hard... It's hard to be open when you're hiding so much...but with Olivia, I tried...she was the best woman I had ever had. I wanted to spend my life with her. But when we had a pregnancy scare, I realized how much she wanted kids... and I couldn't do it...not even for her...

She is so amazing...with everything she has been through, everything she has seen...she can still see the good in the world. But I can't, I don't want to bring a kid into this...I wouldn't be a good father... Hell, I can't even look after myself!...

I don't know if finding out what I hid from her, would help her understand me better, or if it would just make her hate me more...but the time for grappling with the question of whether or not to tell her, has long passed. The decision was inadvertently made long ago... in every hesitation, in every silence.

It is only in that moment, that I realize I have just laid bare my secret to the man she loves, her partner...and I never asked him not to tell her...

I don't even have the self-awareness to worry about how crazy I must look, standing in the street with tears rolling down my face.

I debate going back to the bar, where I know they are most likely still sitting... but what would I say?

Should I call **her** , try to explain, try to mitigate the huge betrayal of not telling her myself?

Should **I** try to tell her, before **he** can divulge my closest held truth?

Should I call **him** and plead with him to maintain the confidence he never agreed to keep?

Before I can even really consider claiming he misunderstood, I remember the damage I caused on the stand; leaving West's victims without justice because of my lack of self-control...this time I can't run away. I can't claim the DA misconstrued my words; I need the man to clean up some of my mess...

 **I'm just going to have to deal with whatever happens...**

The rolling in my stomach has intensified, and chills pass through my body as I breathe deeply, trying to keep calm.

I'm backed into a corner, I'm terrified... so I head into the nearest familiar bar, promising myself only a couple of drinks...just enough to take away these feelings, to quiet the fear...

Picking up my first drink, I swallow down the knowledge that this is just Cassidy-the-fuck-up, along with the burning alcohol...


	4. Decision

RAFAEL

A disturbed night of sleep has done little to clarify my next move, or even whether there should even **be** a next move...

I reluctantly drag myself out of bed, immediately heading for the coffee machine; caffeine is going to be essential today, to even shower and dress.

As the machine spits out the first of what is likely to be very many coffees, Cassidy's words keep echoing in my mind... "... _chasing demons away the rest of his life... Every relationship...Every time this kid looks into a mirror...there's gonna be this looming shadow there."_

I choose to believe it is the strong black drink that causes my stomach to churn, and not the words that have haunted me all night.

I spent more hours than I want to admit, lying awake, beside Liv, trying to figure out how to deal with the surprising confession from her ex.

I want to lie in bed with her now, and share the information that I feel so ill equipped to deal with, despite all my training. I want her to know...I think she would want to know...I think that maybe he needs the support, even after all this time, from someone who truly cares about him...and as I did after Rollins disclosed the extent of Patton's assault, I want Liv's help and support for myself.

I know she is not blind to the effect my work has on me. She has told me, after particularly bad days, that when I am immersed in work, when I am safe and comfortable at home, and my guard is down, she can sometimes see the pain I feel at what my job confronts me with, play across my face...

She slipped into my lap one night, when the divide I try to maintain between my work and home life was failing; when I tried to apologize for allowing the depravities of work into our home; she just wrapped her arms tightly around me, scrunched up her nose and whispered that it probably sounds strange to admit, but the depth of feeling she sees etched onto my face, makes her love me even more. Because it reminds her how much I **care** about the people we work with...

She knows this case has hit me even harder than usual...

Sometimes the cases that are going to burrow under your skin, are obvious... they stand out for their brutality, their depravity... or their significance is in the parallels to something much more personal...but sometimes a case, just won't let go, despite its horrors being seemingly unremarkable to someone who sees so much **wrong** every day...

Over my career in SVU, I have seen it so many times in my colleagues, my friends...a case that takes an unusually high toll on someone...sometimes, you hear, in time, why it struck home, sometimes you are only ever left with worries and slight inklings about it's significance...

This one, Reggie's case, is more mundane than such horrors should ever be...we don't often see it end in murder, not like this...but I am sure she is worrying about why it has affected me more than it should.

Despite the depth of our intimacy, sometimes we need to keep our own counsel...to digest strong feelings, to process, to understand how we feel...

It was a lesson we learned early on in our relationship... trust, openness, honesty and transparency don't mean that privacy is gone. A small smile curls my lips, as I realize how much smoother my life may have gone, in my twenties and thirties, had I understood that gentle difference.

Arms wind gently around my waist, pulling me against her still sleep warmed body and I accept her unconditional gesture of love gratefully.

" _Rafael?"_ she whispers, not asking...not directly, just letting me know that she is there for me, opening the door to make it easier for me...

I sigh, nodding my head slowly, reluctantly acknowledging that I am troubled...

" _I hate the ones with kids, Liv..."_ I murmur, echoing something I know we all feel, but my head drops as my words fade out.

I scrub my hand across my face, before kissing her hand lightly, trying to still the fear I am sure my reactions are stirring in her...

I know that once this fear has gained a foothold in your mind, it is very hard to assuage and erase...

She knows my childhood was not an altogether happy one...there are things that have left their mark on the adult, from when I was a child... **this** does not form one of my scars...but I can only imagine that now, she is wondering...

As our relationship has progressed we have talked and talked, sometimes until it felt like there could be nothing, left unexplored. I have always known so many of the details of both of Lewis' attacks, because I was the prosecutor in her case... and she has told me even more as time has passed, but sometimes, still, despite all my knowledge, I will want a reassurance that she doesn't **understand** a certain feeling, or that she never experienced something particular...

" _No cariño! It is not_ _ **personal**_ _... "_ I smile sadly, turning in her embrace, allowing her to read my face, convincing her with my openness more than my words.

 **This** has become our own private code, a way of claiming or refusing a feeling or experience without having to explain... We are both very familiar with all the terms of sexual violence, but we have found that sometimes in our personal lives, that language is too harsh, too difficult...sometimes we feel the words are too impersonal, or that they don't say what we need them to. Sometimes, we are not in a position to speak openly, so we have found our own shorthand, our own language... so that even when we are surrounded by people, or have a curious young boy listening, we can talk.

She knows I am telling her, that I am not holding back my own secret, as Reggie had done for so long.

She doesn't hide her relief, tightening the arms wrapped around me quickly. I try to swallow down the fears that assail me as I see how worried my reactions to this case, have left the woman I love...

I shiver uncontrollably as I understand that despite her soothing herself with the belief that I have no personal experiences in this arena for the case to exploit; despite the fact that we have spoken, too many times to count, of our own personal history, some secrets can be incredibly deeply held... as Cassidy has just demonstrated all too clearly.

I know she feels guilt for the relief that is melting her into my body. Every time I see one of our colleagues react particularly strongly to a case, I know I feel bad when I reassure myself in this way, calming the fear that they have experienced something similar. Whether it is Liv, or any of the squad, I hate that I am comforting myself that the reason a case is particularly upsetting, is **not** because it is eerily familiar to their own personal experience...that they are not hiding their own horrors, seems a perverse thing to be so grateful for.

I stroke my partner's cheek gently, and she leans into my hand, accepting the gesture gratefully.

She is an SVU veteran of 19 years, she has good instincts, She has been known, more than a few times, to intuit truths of past sexual violence that people had not intended to share with her...but that does not mean that those instincts have never failed her, and she was scared.

I am more aware than the average person, of many of the common reactions and effects of sexual assault. I like to think that I am conscious of many subtle warning signs that someone in my personal life has survived something like that...but when you are talking about someone you are very personally close to...it becomes much harder to gain the distance to spot or evaluate any inadvertent hints. I know Liv feels exactly the same...

She felt very guilty for not somehow, instinctively, understanding the extent of the assault that Rollins only obliquely referred to, before Patton raped Detective Taymore... even the _"great"_ Olivia Benson has no patented, infallible, "detector". She doesn't magically just _**know**_...

" _You are a good man, Rafael..."_ she tries to reassure me again, _"You will do what you can for Reggie. And I am always here to talk..."_ she accompanies the words with aheartfelt kiss.

I nod quickly, making an intuitive leap, for once, choosing to trust more than my brain... _"Liv, will you go talk to Cassidy?"_

This causes her to pull back, it was not at all, what she expected me to say, and she frowns as she studies me carefully.

I am very used to the stare she levels at me in work, when she does not understand my intended course of action, so I try to find an approximation of my usual response...but it is unsure and shaky, not the " _Trust me! I am right!"_ that typically meets her wordless query.

" _Please? Liv?"_

The insecure, pleading addition has her stepping close to me, _"Rafael?"._

 **Shit!**

The only understanding I managed to find in the sleeplessness of last night was that this is not my story to tell... in SVU I have begun to recognize the power of disclosure. It is an important step in healing; it is taking some control of a situation where there was no chance of any power being wrested back.

I want her to know... I want her to be there for Cassidy...but it cannot be my mouth that reveals his secrets.

" _Liv...he needs a friend..."_

Her face hardens slightly, I can only assume she believes I am about to fire him, and want her to support him, or prevent him from yet another hot-headed response...and this outcome is not impossible, he may yet, lose his job...but it is not today's worry.

I can see her struggle, between knowing that his behavior means losing his job is a reasonable consequence, and her desire to protect him.

I shrug my shoulders, unable to speak without betraying a confidence I never agreed to keep... perhaps my own struggle is still too clear, for she steps into my arms once more.

" _Do what you can for Reggie...you can't save everyone!"_

I can only nod my head, emotion choking my throat...she cannot know how incredibly fitting her choice of words are.

" _Do you want to shower first?"_ she asks, gently laying her hand on my heart.

I just gesture to my coffee, taking a long sip, wordlessly relaying that it is my immediate priority this morning.

When she leaves the kitchen I try to ignore the couple of stray tears that slip out, brushing them way quickly. My emotions are nothing compared to what I imagine Cassidy battling with as he realizes, in the cold light of day, what he admitted to me last night.

I'm not sure how he will greet Liv.

Will he assume I have already told her his secret?

Will he go on the offensive to hold the fear, the shame, at bay?

I don't worry that I may have caused irreversible damage to my relationship with him, we barely have a relationship, but Liv gained some real peace from their hurried talk last night, and I know that there is still love there for him. Not a love that I need to feel insecure, or jealous about...but I hope my ham-fisted attempt to push them together doesn't damage their fledgling friendship.

When Liv emerges from our bedroom, showered, her hair done, her makeup bag in hand, I move over beside her as she starts to expertly apply.

" _I know I'm being a little... taciturn...Cariño..."_

She stops, mascara wand in hand, looking to me questioningly...

" _I wish I could...but I can't tell you."_

She sighs, muttering a barely discernable _"privilege"_ as she continues her daily make up routine.

" _Cassidy needs a friend...I don't think I can help...I don't think he would accept my help..."_

She knots her brow slightly, her eyes sliding to meet mine in the mirror...

" _You can't allow him to push you away with a hot-headed response..."_ I add softly, afraid that I am giving her too much information, but more worried that if I send her to him unprepared, he will push her away...

Now she tilts her head quizzically, trying to understand what I am saying.

I'm not sure what she sees in my reflection, but she asks no questions, just nods gently, _"He never really likes talking...I won't let him avoid..."_

She kisses me softly, showing her trust without any words.

When she is happy with her face, she takes a mouthful of my coffee, savoring it as she glances to the clock.

I nod quickly when she looks to me.

" _I've got Noah"_ I tell her, knowing that she will head straight to Cassidy's before work. I can't help the smile that crosses my lips as I consider the short time I will have with the little boy, listening to him chattering away happily, trying to convince me how playing would be a much better use of our day, instead of school and work...

I really wish I could blow off the day and spend it in the park, lying on the rug in the living room here, eating ice cream...but I can't. Checking my calendar I see that I am not due in court til 11:45am, so maybe I could be a little late...

" _Good Morning Noah!"_ I whisper into the still sleeping child's ear, as I gently rub his head. _"Time for sleepy heads to wake up..."_

As only a child can, he wakes up with a smile on his face, happy for another day of wonderment and fun.

He is speaking before he is done yawning _"M'ning...can we have pancakes? Can we play dinosaurs? Can we..."_

I smile widely at him as he rubs his eyes, pushing back the bedclothes.

" _Mama is gone to work a little early today, so it's just you and me."_

He nods carelessly, and I delight in how accepted I feel by that small gesture...he is quite happy to have only me...

" _How bout you brush your teeth and wash your hands and face, while I start on those pancakes?"_

At this, he jumps out of bed, running towards the bathroom happy to comply when pancakes are being offered uncharacteristically, on a weekday.

Before he can reach his destination though, he is skidding back to a halt... _"Chocolate?"_ he requests, with what his mom and me have christened, his ' _good boy grin'..._

" _Berry!"_ I counter, knowing that his mom would not be happy with chocolate pancakes for breakfast on a Thursday, _"...with syrup!"_ I add.

He is more than happy with this concession, despite knowing that his pancakes will definitely contain more fruit than syrup. He runs back to me, throwing his arms around my waist.

Yep I'm definitely going to be a bit late this morning I decide, letting Carmel know as soon as I go back into the kitchen.

A little Noah-time will help distract me...


	5. Opening the door

OLIVIA

I try not to let my mind wander, too much, as I drive to Cassidy's address. I had to grab it out of the case file...I've never been here before.

I briefly consider how inappropriate it is to appear, unannounced, at your ex's door, at 7:30am, when he is on suspension...but quickly discount it when I remember how upset Rafael looked, as he asked me to go check on him.

No matter how hard I try not to speculate, I can't help marrying previous experiences, with the situation I find myself in now.

The memory of a cop from the 21st who 'ate his gun' when he was suspended and faced losing his career, is foremost in my mind...but as my foot instinctively presses the accelerator slightly harder, I comfort myself that Rafael would not have waited until this morning if he felt that was a real possibility.

This case has had a particularly strong effect on the man I love. I'm not sure why. I had worried that perhaps there was something that resounded personally for him...but he has assured me, there wasn't.

Once more, I try to figure out why I am on my way to Brian's, at Rafael's urging...

Is it possible that he is worried that I won't forgive him if he has to fire Brian?

Is it possible that after last night, he wants me to be there to support my ex, to both curry favor with me, and prevent Brian from a messy, angry confrontation?

 **No!** Rafael is not afraid of confrontation, or facing my ire.

As our relationship has progressed, and we have talked through many of our obstacles and difficulties, I have been quite open about how worried I am that I caused some lasting damage to Brian, with my unpredictable behavior and my changeable triggers...Rafael has always been understanding, supportive...despite not particularly liking him, Rafael seems to respect Brian and be sympathetic to our struggles **after**...

This only reminds me that I am very lucky...how many men would, not only, be happy for their partner to maintain a friendship with their ex, but actively encourage it?

Pulling up to the unknown apartment, I spot a deli on the corner...I haven't had breakfast, and knowing Brian, he is likely to have had more than a few beers last night, as he has no job to go to this morning.

I grab a couple of bagels and coffees to smooth my arrival, juggling them expertly as I ring the buzzer.

At first there is no answer, but after a couple of tries I am greeted by a voice that confirms my earlier supposition that last night was numbed by alcohol.

" ' _lo?"_ The gravelly mutter is still largely asleep, and not happy to be disturbed.

" _Brian, it's Liv..."_

For a second I wonder if he hasn't heard...

" _It's Liv...can I come up?"_ I repeat gently.

The buzzer releasing the door is my only answer.

When I step out of the lift on the 9th floor, I quickly search the numbers, finding his door ajar, silently inviting me in.

I nudge the door closed behind me with my hip, and look around his home. It is a little untidy, but somehow very familiar to me.

The man himself lumbers out of what I assume to be the bedroom, tying the string on a pair of sweats.

He heads towards the coffee machine so I call out, softly... _"I brought coffee...and bagels..."_

He turns toward me reluctantly and I don't know how to describe the emotion on his face.

He looks at the proffered food and drinks, seemingly grudging their existence.

He is clearly hung over. His hair is more unruly than usual, more than even regular bed-head, like he had spent a long time running his hands through it. His eyes are red rimmed, he must have gotten very little sleep... a fact further evidenced by the shadows under said eyes.

He looks like he is braced for an attack...

He is very much a beaten man...I wonder is this why Rafael sent me over here?

I smile gently at him, pushing his breakfast across the counter, settling onto a high stool myself, and tucking into my food.

He seems grateful to be given a short respite from whatever he seems to be dreading, and takes a bite of the bread.

We eat in silence, neither of us willing to be the one to speak first...until I wrap my empty paper into a ball...

" _Brian? Are you ok?"_

This seems to be enough to irritate him; he bristles visibly, his jaw tightening, his eyes rolling...

I know this man too well to be off put by such a simple gesture.

I know, from experience, to approach him in a different way.

" _What you said last night..."_ I start, but the stricken look on his face makes the rest of my words fade...

" _He told you."_

There is no question, the words are deadpanned, his shoulders and head drop, his eyes close...

But I have no idea what he is talking about...

He is leaning against the counter now, as if it is all that is holding him up...

Every warning is going off in my head, I have no idea what he is referring to, but I know I have to tread extremely carefully.

" _Told me what? Brian, I have no earthly idea who is supposed to have told me what?"_

He looks to me disbelievingly, ready to retort acidly...but it seems my confusion is unmistakable.

This gives him pause, and I take advantage of his surprised muteness...

" _I'm here, because Rafael asked me to come..."_

His face twists, in what looks like hatred, at the mention of Rafael...but I don't allow him to speak, not yet...

" _I don't know why...all he told me was that you needed a friend...that he didn't think_ _ **he**_ _could be that friend to you, that you wouldn't accept his help..."_

For a moment, the man before me seems vulnerable...but then the shields I am so accustomed to, are hurriedly thrown up...

" _I didn't ask for **his** help! I don't want it and I don't need it!" _he roars...

If I didn't know him so well, I may be bothered by his reaction...but I am just more confused...

" _Brian..."_ I answer softly, trying to diffuse the situation, _"our discussion last night...it meant a lot to me. I didn't know you felt that way. I didn't know how much I needed that closure... I'm sorry. You were right! I couldn't open up to you...I don't know if it was just bad timing...but especially_ _ **then**_ _...after Lewis..."_

 **His** name was something very, very, seldom said in those days, and its use has got his attention.

I smile sadly, _"...I never realized how damaged I was...not even just by_ _ **him**_ _...I needed therapy long before William Lewis..."_

His body language is a lot more open now, and he is truly listening to me...as I tell him some of my carefully held secrets.

" _...I was assaulted...before..."_

His face drops as I admit this...

" _...I was about to say it wasn't serious...but it was really...I just told myself that it wasn't...It was while I was undercover...I wasn't raped...but it was close...Fin saved me..."_

He has pulled over the stool that was on the end of the breakfast bar and dropped heavily onto it.

" _I never really talked about it. I did get some help...went to group therapy...but I kept it very separate... After Lewis, it wasn't separate anymore...I felt...weak...powerless... I was never great at talking, not about myself... We always had that in common!?"_

He nods his assent with a choked chuckle...

" _I wasn't ready to talk to anyone...you did nothing wrong...and I've always felt so bad...I worried about the damage I did you...I was so volatile...you could never win...Fuck Brian, I nearly shot you...I'm so sorry..."_

He shakes his head, trying to shake off my apology...

" _I really mean it...I was so messed up...and I couldn't ask for help...Brian, I couldn't even take it when it was offered..."_

He looks like he is close to tears...and that's when I start to panic...

" _I'm sorry! I don't know why I'm here...I don't know what you think I was told...Rafael knows how much it meant to me last night, and he asked me to come check on you today...but maybe, he wanted to give me a chance to say what I should have said...when you caught me off-guard..."_

I hate that I'm rambling...and I'm worried I've gone too far, said things I shouldn't have...

His hand reaches across to me, lightly squeezing my fingers, his face, a mish-mash of hope, an odd dread, and reluctant acceptance.

" _He really didn't tell you?"_

" _Rafael?"_ I ask in return.

His head nods tightly.

I splay my hands open, unable to find words, but overcome with an inexplicable, deep-seated, terror at what I am supposed to know...

He looks away, and I wait for him to meet my questioning gaze once more...there is no sign of it happening as the silence stretches out between us.

" _He thinks you need a friend...Brian?"_

His eyes shoot up momentarily, before dropping again. What I see in that instant is a huge maelstrom of emotion and complete vulnerability.

Every instinct is telling me to shut up...to wait as long as he needs... but it is a struggle not to pepper him with inane questions...

" _I told you I went to see him, to plead for my job..."_ he finally whispers.

I nod, even though I know he cannot see it.

" _I didn't...I went to plead for Reggie..."_ I can hear his reticence to say the words, even as they are pulled from his throat...

I smile. Not surprised...

Despite being a hot head, Brian cares...

Why was this a big deal...? And then it hits me...he feels guilty...

" _Brian, it wasn't your fault...Reggie **chose** to do what he did...the lawyer goaded you, he tried to push you, he wanted you to blow up...we've all said the wrong thing on the stand..."_

He knows we've all caused problems for ADAs in cases, by fucking up on the stand...I know he took things further, but now is not the time to pile onto his mistakes...he obviously feels terrible.

His head is shaking as I speak, his refusal to accept my words growing more adamant...

" _ **No! Liv**_ _..."_

The absolute misery etched into the creases on his face, stops me more than his words...

" _I went to plead for Reggie...he is already being punished...every time he looks in the mirror..."_

I can see the effort it is taking for him to say these words so I say nothing...

" _ **I**_ _...I know."_

His gaze once again, shoots up to mine before looking away.

His head drops into his hands.

I sit there, the reality of his words spreading through me. My mouth falls slightly open, my chest is tight, my mind feels like it has almost been wiped clean, and my arms and legs grow heavier by the second...

The weight of those two words is leaden.

I try to say _'I'm sorry'_ , or ask _'why didn't you tell me?'_...but nothing comes out.

Despite keeping his face low, I can see him rubbing the stubble on his jaw, scrubbing his face, messing the already wild hair, even more...

" _I know I should have told you...but I didn't want you looking at me like that!"_

I want to tell him he has no idea how I am looking at him...because he hasn't looked at me! But we both know, that were he to look, he would find some of the compassion he is so loathe to see.

I want to say some or all of the things I know I should say...like it's not his fault, and I don't see him any differently, but I can't find those words quite yet.

" _You never told anyone?"_ is what spills out instead.

His head shakes slightly, " _My father...found out... Beat the crap out of him."_

I know I should be reassuring him, but I have lost the power of speech, as we both flounder, in the oppressive silence.

I want, no need, to know more...Who hurt him? How old was he? What was done to him? Did he seek, or get any justice? Did he ever get any help? What did it do to his relationship with his father? There are so many questions...

I want to wrap my arms around him and tell him it wasn't his fault, and he doesn't ever have to tell anyone he doesn't want to...

But all I can do is sit...in shock...these thoughts cartwheeling through my brain...

When I find my voice, none of my training or experience is visible in my words...

" _You told Rafael?"_

He nods... _"Only to make sure he understood...Reggie...what he has already suffered..."_

His words are even quieter than my own, and I lean forward to hear them.

" _As always, I cocked up...fucked up beyond all recognition...I needed to do something...that kid, he needs help...not more punishment... He won't ever forget...what was done to him...or what he did..."_

I don't know when it happened, but his two hands are fisted tightly, on the counter, and I grab them with my own, not letting go when he tries to pull away.

" _I can't imagine how hard it was to share that secret..."_

I didn't mean to say it out loud, but when I hear the words whispered, breathily, in my voice, I'm quite proud of them.

This is sufficiently unexpected that his head lifts.

" _I mean it Brian! Fuck, there's so much I should be saying now...but...Jesus!...how much strength it took to do that!"_

He is still hunched defensively, but he doesn't dip his head again.

" _I thought you'd be angry, betrayed I didn't ...?"_

Despite them not being said we both hear so many more words...' _disgusted'_... _'horrified'...'repelled'..._ and finally my training, my experience, and who I am, make themselves known.

I clasp his hands firmly, _"Brian, I_ _ **am**_ _shocked, and not for any other reason than I have known you for so long, and so intimately, without knowing you had been hurt like that.  
And no, I'm not angry that you didn't tell me...some things are incredibly hard to tell the person you are so close to.  
I'm really sorry that you experienced that. You are a good person and you did not deserve to be hurt like that.  
I completely understand keeping it a secret...I really do...I've kept my own secrets...and from you! But I am so glad you have told me now, and I hope you know you can always talk to me...if you want to?  
No I don't feel betrayed, I feel incredibly privileged that you have trusted me. "_

He is looking at me under his eyelashes...his intense vulnerability striking...as he seems to evaluate my words.

" _It wasn't that I didn't trust you Liv..."_

I want to cut him off, to interject that I wasn't insinuating he didn't trust me, but he needs the space to say whatever he is thinking.

" _...I didn't want you to look at me like..._ _ **that**_ _!"_

I feel like there should be anger behind those words, but all I hear is bitter resignation.

A few moments pass, as I consider his words.

" _Bri, I think I understand...when I was at my worst, after Lewis; when I was really struggling; when I was sobbing and trying to claim I was fine...you would sometimes get this look on your face...at the time, I felt like it was you judging me weak, or giving the 'victim' sympathy...it felt negative and I pushed you away...but now I understand it was compassion. You_ _ **felt**_ _for me, you wanted to help...you didn't think any less of me..."_

Now his voice cracks, _"God! No! Never Liv... I couldn't believe how you were still standing after what that_ _ **bastard**_ _did...I couldn't believe your strength!"_

I nod softly, letting him see the tears gathering in my eyes, _"Now look at me again...?."_ I plead...

He looks me in the eye, nodding slightly as he reevaluates...

" _I hate that it still bothers me...all those years ago, when I was twelve...it only went on for a couple of months...and_ _ **still**_ _..."_

There are no words to answer this huge revelation, so I just squeeze his hands tighter, showing my support in the small action.


	6. Hearing truths

CASSIDY

I never thought the day would come that I would be sitting here with Liv, her holding my hands, as I told her how I was... _molested_...as a kid...

The word doesn't even come easily in my own mind.

It's so surreal, that if it weren't for the pounding headache and the strengthening waves of nausea assaulting me, I would firmly believe I was dreaming.

The silence isn't quite as crushing, now, as it was only moments ago, as she tries to take in the massive amount of information I have just thrown at her in very few words...

" _I hate that it still bothers me...all those years ago, when I was twelve...it only went on for a couple of months...and_ _ **still**_ _..."_

 **What the fuck was I thinking?**

I immediately blame the plentiful amounts of alcohol still coursing through my bloodstream, for my stupidity.

It was one thing, telling her, I had a 'bad experience' when I was a kid, that I never told her about...I spent most of the night drunkenly trying to puzzle out a way of avoiding telling her, but no drunken haze could hide the fact that I had removed that option when I went to Barba and blabbed.

So I passed long periods of last night refining my plan to talk it down, to ' _tell her'_ - **sort of**...

I even stopped drinking at a point, to try and have my shit together today, so I could pick a time and place...so I could be in control of this fucking conversation...so I could avoid exactly **this**!

And instead of that, she shows up when I have barely had any sleep, and completely screws it all up by being...Olivia!

I really didn't want her to **know**...I wanted her to have a vague picture in her head:

A little kid...not an almost-teen;

A stranger, no, a 'weirdo' luring away, a kid too young to know any better, ...not a trusted adult;

A one-time, not too serious, bad experience...not a series of steadily worsening nightmares;

Young Brian fighting back...not silent, teary-eyed, unmoving acceptance;

An immediate disclosure...not months of furtive concealment...

And in one stupid, unthinking sentence I have told her I was old enough to have known better, I allowed a trusted adult to hurt me, not once...but many times, and I didn't really fight back...

The nausea is no longer a background feeling...I think I'm gonna be sick...

I don't even have time to wonder how weak I look, as I lean over the sink, beads of sweat lining my forehead while I throw up my breakfast and what little was in my stomach.

For a moment, the world has shrunk, it is just me, in my apartment, hunched over the sink...but a gentle hand rubbing between my shoulder blades brings me back to reality.

She is standing beside me, dampening a cloth, which she offers me...

I accept it gratefully, also taking the glass of water that follows it...

She leads me over to the couch and takes a seat beside me.

" _How are you feeling now?"_

I feel rotten, and as the scope of the situation slowly gets clearer in my foggy brain, I just nod noncommittally...

I use the nausea as an excuse to keep my head low, to avoid seeing the disgust she is trying to hide behind her professional concern.

" _Brian?"_

She gently jostles my arm, as though she has been trying to get my attention for a while...and instinct takes over, I unthinkingly look to the source of the call of my name...

There are tears in her eyes, and she is chewing her lip...I know her too well, I know she is fighting the urge to say something...

My head drops once more, I can't look at her, but there is no gain in prolonging this agony...

" _Just say it Liv!"_ my voice sounds rough and much shakier than I would wish for our last conversation...

I hear her swallow quickly, trying to hold back the tears, but let out the words...

" _Bri...I'm so sorry..."_

Her voice falters, and I brace for the inevitable...

But it is her hand I feel before I hear any more words, gently rubbing my arm...

I pull away, I can't stand her touching me, I can't let her comfort me, I won't be able to hold myself together when she leaves...and I cannot allow myself to look even weaker...

" _I'm sorry...I shouldn't have touched you...not without your permission..."_ she whispers breathily, the fight with her emotions evident in every word...

" _I'm fucking this up so badly Bri...I should be so much better...I hate that you went through that! And I hate that you have kept this secret all your adult-life..."_

She is so close that I can feel her head shaking in accompaniment to her words...

There is a moment of silence and then I feel her head rest on my shoulder as she begins to sob openly...

For a moment I'm shocked, Liv is not someone who likes to show her deep emotions, and she doesn't welcome comfort when the tears force their way through her barriers...but the openness disarms me and I find myself turning towards her, my hand gently cupping the back of her head, as tears unexpectedly course down my own cheeks.

Her hand grasps my arm and it feels so right and so wrong, all at the same time.

" _I'm sorry Liv..."_ I start to whisper but she stops me, cupping my cheek...

" _You were right, Bri, there was a lot of love and a lot of respect between us...and when Lewis came back, you tried to be there for me, you told me that even though we hadn't worked out as a couple, you wanted to stay my friend...I couldn't let you help me...I understand not being able to open up..."_

I can see that she really does understand and I try not to wonder what secrets she has kept from me, from everyone, about what happened with Lewis...

And then it dawns on me...she is still the woman I will always love, but she is different now...

" _I'm glad that you're happy now Liv...Barba seems to be good for you..."_

I start to pull away, realizing that we should not be so close anymore...she is with someone else now...

" _I don't want to cause problems for you with him..."_

She quickly shakes her head, smiling, _"He is the one who sent me here...he wants to be sure you are okay...he knows that you were an important part of my past, and he wants us to be friends..."_

There is a moment when all I can latch onto is the fact that she may still want to be my friend...

And then the darkness snuffs out that glimmer of hope, the little voice inside reminds me that I am no challenge to him, to their relationship...I'm barely a man...what kind of man lets **that** happen...

My muscles tense under her hand and I shrug her off.

" _I don't need someone looking after me!"_ I rage, stomping away from her...pulling myself as far away from the reminders of my own weakness as I can.

" _I'm not another of your_ _ **victims**_ _that needs to be saved...and no one would dare lay a hand on me now!"_

I didn't realize I was doing it, but I have pulled myself up to my full height, pushed my chest out, my fists clenched...I am poised for a fight...

I look to her, and although I would never hurt her, and it would destroy me to see her fear me, the fact that she is not even remotely flinching at my display of power...leaves me feeling even weaker...

And then I crumble...I'm upset because the woman I will always love isn't afraid of me?

 **What kind of a monster am I?**

I slide slowly down the wall I didn't even realize was behind me...my arms wrapping around my stomach, as my knees pull up to my chin...

And then I feel her kneeling before me, gathering me in her arms...

" _Brian, you were a kid...a 12 year old kid...it wasn't a fair fight...it wasn't supposed to be a fair fight...it doesn't make you weak...not in any way..."_

She mutters so many of these things into my hair as she holds me, trying to calm and reassure me...

And then she gently lifts my chin, bringing my eye line to meet hers...

" _...it doesn't make you any less of a man..."_

She can't hope to stop me pulling my face away.

" _Listen to me Bri...I don't know what it feels like to be a man...to have this happen and to worry about all the things that are unique to you, and your gender...but I know what it feels like to feel_ _ **weak**_ _, to feel like you don't meet the criteria anymore...I'm a cop! I've been assaulted twice! What kind of cop is that weak?_

 _What kind of cop needs her partner to save her from being fucked by a perv?_

 _What kind of cop needs to be rescued after more than four days with a psychopath? Beaten, burned, drugged..._

 _What kind of cop?"_

I can hear her pain as she pleads with me, the raw emotion in her words, the tears rather than intent breaking her off...

I try to speak but her fingers on my lips silence me.

" _This kind of cop!"_ she whispers...opening the button on her shirt to show me one of the scars that monster left behind...

" _This kind of cop, Brian...one who is human...who can handle herself, but didn't get the chance to...I didn't want to admit to being assaulted, the first time...because I thought it meant I couldn't be a cop..._

 _I felt so weak...like if El, or Fin, or any of the guys had been there,_ _ **they**_ _could have handled themselves, when I couldn't..."_

I can see how much she means this, how every word is heartfelt, and pure agony, but she continues...

" _I thought I was the weak link...and it tore me apart! I never told El...but he knew something had happened...nobody else saw it as my weakness...but it haunted me..._

 _I was black and blue, handcuffed to a fence, alone...with a rapist prison guard...and I thought I was weak because I had run out of ways to fight him...and if Fin hadn't arrived, he was going to rape me..."_

She is gasping lightly and tears are rolling down her face and all I can do is shake my head as she falls back onto her heels...

The things she is describing play across my mind as if I had seen them in reality...

Oh my god!

I can picture it too clearly...

" _But I was undercover as a prisoner, I got separated from my backup, he wasn't our suspect...he had saved me from the guy we had pegged as the rapist...he stacked everything to make sure he had the upper hand...and by the time I realized how much danger I was in, I was alone and handcuffed...it wasn't a fair fight!"_

I can't pull my eyes away from her now...

" _When Lewis got me the first time, he held a gun to my head as I walked into my apartment...the second time he had a kid...neither of those were fair fights!"_

" _I was unlucky..."_

" _I was targeted..."_

" _I was ...horribly...abused..."_

" _but I wasn't weak..."_

I shake my head even more resolutely now...

" _God, No, Liv...Fuck..."_

She nods briefly... _"but it felt like my weakness...even now, in my head..."_

She is doing what she never could before, she is opening herself up to me...her hand reaches up to touch her forehead...

" _I know...but..."_

The hand drops to her chest, the finger tracing the scar she had revealed...

" _...it doesn't always feel that way..."_

I know how hard this is for her, I know her too well to believe for one instant, that this is easy...and if I were in any doubt she is allowing me to see the intensity of her struggle...

She is doing this for me...

I nod...it is the only way of acknowledging the immense gift she is trying to give me...

" _I let him Liv...I know I was only a kid...but I let him...what kind of man lets someone...?"_

I manage to halt the words before I betray any more secrets.

" _It's never that cut and dry..."_ she croaks, _"there's always more to it..."_

She leaves it open for me to tell her as much as I want to, rather than asking direct questions that leave me feeling trapped...

" _He told me I was special...more mature than the other kids...treated me different..."_

She nods sadly...

" _Even before...anything...really happened...it felt wrong...but..."_

" _It wasn't a fair fight Brian..."_

This time I shake my head softly... _"No...and somehow it was such...a shock..."_

Now its her turn to tip her head up and down slightly in agreement... _"It doesn't feel real...and even if you could think of running, your body doesn't feel like it could..."_

I can't even show my understanding in anything other than the pained grimace and the twinkling tears...

Her hand reaches out to me, grasping mine tightly... _"...and your body betrays you even more..."_

I think I moan as a sob breaks through my entire body...

She holds my hand as she whispers...

" _I spent so many hours terrified that when Lewis finally did it...he would find me wet...he kept taunting me...and hurting me...but at the same time...he touched me...and I was so afraid...he twisted my nipples, and told me they were like that because I wanted him... I spent so long,_ _ **after**_ _, disgusted at my own body...at any sign of arousal..."_

The sobs have multiplied and are shaking my body, as I hide my face from her.

" _And I was an adult...Brian, I had enjoyed sex...I knew that I didn't enjoy the pain, it wasn't arousing...I knew what my body was doing...I knew what I responded to...I knew it wasn't normal..."_

I am battling the memories now...as I started to tell her how he made me feel special, the walls had dropped and I had been sucked back...

I remember that first time...when my body just seemed to stop working...when my mind was overwhelmed by the reality it was confronted with...

I just lay there...

As she tells me about Lewis touching her and using her body's responses against her, I remember the confusion I felt when I was told that I clearly wanted it...

I thought I was... _wrong_...

She has completely broken down every defense...and now she rubs my back gently...

" _Brian...you didn't want it! You did nothing to invite it...and the fact that he chose to target you was not your fault..._

 _You were not weak..._

 _You are not weak now because of it..._

 _You are not less of a man somehow because of it..."_

I want to believe her, I really do...she has opened up so much to me...telling me secrets she must have held so tightly...but as I sit sobbing on the floor with my ex trying to comfort me, it would seem like all the evidence is very much to the contrary...I am **weak**...and much less than a real man...


	7. No more secrets?

OLIVIA

It feels as though I am doing the man before me, a massive disservice by admitting the immense sympathy I feel for him.

I know he would call this sympathy... _ **pity**_...

I **_know_** how hard it is to recognize this type of emotion as anything other than weakness, but the sympathy I feel is not pity!

Pity is tinged with shame, it has connotations that the person being pitied, is inferior to the one feeling pity...

You don't pity someone who is your equal...

What I feel, for the very broken man before me, instead, is intense sympathy, and a hard earned empathy.

I share his feelings; they are not something I struggle to relate to, that confusion, frustration, shame...is something I have long known.

I am deeply saddened by what he has suffered, both as a twelve-year-old child, and as a hurt adult. In fact, as I start to really process the shocking information I have just learned, I am amazed by his strength.

" _You are not less of a man, somehow, because of it..."_

My words are whispered, they feel ridiculous, like I am inferring their untruth merely by allowing them pass my lips, but I know how profoundly a sexual assault can shake a man's understanding of his masculinity.

He doesn't seem to realize he is shaking his head, denying the words that feel so unnecessary to me.

I take a deep breath, trying to draw on my years of experience in SVU, conscious of the multitude of mistakes I have already made this morning.

" _Brian?"_

I call his name softly, wanting to draw him from the memories that are torturing him.

I drop to the floor beside him, when he barely responds:

" _ **Men**_ _don't get r..._ _ **that**_ _doesn't happen..."_

I am glad that I am already on the floor, as his words hit...

 **That** word is not a surprise...even though it was only barely begun, I've been a cop way too long to pretend that my imagination hadn't already extrapolated his story to its likely conclusion...I know what is all too often hidden behind euphemisms and denial...but I can't fight the shock that once more encompasses me.

" _Yes they do..."_ is my even quieter, tear filled, answer.

It is not elegant, or particularly uplifting but maybe there is something comforting in its brutal truth...

I take his closer hand in mine, despite his half-hearted attempt to pull away.

" _Fuck! Brian!...they do...it's horrible, and all too common...and you know as well as I do...men do get...raped..."_

He looks sideways at me, and I can see he is thinking of Reggie.

" _Liv, I thought I could hold it together...I never would have taken the stand if I thought I would lose it like that..."_

I want to reassure him, tell him that I know he would never have consciously risked the trial, but if he is willing to talk to me now, I can swallow the words that will likely have little effect on him anyways.

" _That lawyer started questioning me...he...he started bringing up Carissa...then...Riggs..."_

He is shaking softly as he tries to explain...

" _...I was on the stand, as a witness, on a paedo case...and he was trying to paint me to the jury as a rapist..._

 _I've made plenty of bad decisions...I've done more stupid things than I can even count...but...I'm not a rapist...I'm not like that...like_ _ **him**_ _..."_

I can't help the gasp that accompanies the emphatic head shaking...

" _I'd never hurt a kid..._ _ **never**_ _...and not like that...I could never do_ _ **that**_ _... not to anyone..."_

He has wrenched his hand from mine, clasping them so tightly, his knuckles are white... and for the first time, I really begin to understand what caused his epic meltdown on the stand.

His words, and everything they hide in half shadow, trigger an avalanche of memories in me; in the days and weeks after Lewis' first attack, the man beside me was so gentle, so conscious of how his mere presence may upset me...I'm reminded how he would move into my eye line before touching me in any way...how he would ask permission to enter his own bed...how devastated he would look if I flinched from him...

How did I not ever question these behaviors?

At the time I was so wrapped up in my own suffering, my own fears and grief, I was incapable of recognizing even the most obvious tells...and in the time since, I have never once considered the root cause of that horrible **caution** , that finally ruined what we once had...

I had just assumed that his all-encompassing carefulness was caused by my ever-changing triggers, it seemed to stand to reason, that when a man had to ask for permission to sleep in his own bed, and woke to his girlfriend having a breakdown because he had a perfectly normal, morning erection, that he would become unnaturally cautious...

I had assumed that I had sexually ruined him...that he was ashamed of his body's natural reactions, and uninterested in sex because of me...and what I went through at Lewis' hands...

But there was more to it...

As always, when I open the door, even a touch, to my experiences with Lewis, I have little control over the memories that force themselves to the fore...Lewis' poison filled words, at what was supposed to be **his** trial, replay in my mind...taunting me, he said I was just a frustrated and lonely woman who wanted to play with rape fantasy... **His** trial, became more of a judgment of me...

Even now, the idea of what he claimed I wanted to experience, makes me feel sick...I have spent my life terrified of the violence that is part of my genetic make up...I have always been on the alert for anything that would confirm the sexual depravity I feared I had inherited from my rapist father...

 **OH...**

" _Brian?"_ I hate the tentative voice that breaks the silence... _"You know you are nothing like_ _ **him**_ _...?"_

He told me, only moments ago, that he is not like the man who hurt him, he said those very words, but it is like he was unaware of their escape...and my confirmation has him gasping and sobbing...

I wrap my arms around the man, holding him as tight to me as I can, while his whole body shakes...

" _He told me I was just like him..."_

" _You are nothing like_ _ **him**_ _..."_ I reiterate softly...

" _But what if I am?"_

It is not the first time I have counseled a man, shattered by a sexual assault, and terrified that he now shares the sexual proclivities of his attacker...but this whispered, heartbroken, plea has fragmented all my previous experiences and training into uselessness...

" _ **Never!**_ _"_ I whisper repeatedly until I find language to make a more compelling case...

" _Brian, you would never hurt anyone...you didn't rape Riggs, she confirmed that, it was all a scam...you couldn't...I always knew that._

 _The man who abused you, he preyed on your innocence, your inexperience..."_

I'm so shocked by his disclosure, by my jumbled emotions, by the memories that I can't hold back when I lift the lid on that time, even if it is to try to make him understand how my sympathy is based in my own experiences...that I miss the clear anger building in the tense body beside me.

" _No! Liv! I wasn't... an_ _ **innocent**_ _kid...I liked pictures...I wanted to look at girls..."_

His words are stuttered, his face lowered in shame...

" _Brian, look at me..."_ I refuse to continue until he tilts his eyes up to meet mine, _"...you were a 12 year old kid...you were curious...you looked at girls in bathing suits? Playboy fascinated you? Maybe you even got your hands on something a bit racier...?"_

The way his face reddens tells me this is what he was trying to tell me...

" _That is perfectly normal! You were starting to become a sexual being...exactly as you should...but you_ _ **were**_ _innocent, you_ _ **were**_ _inexperienced..._

 _ **That man**_ _preyed on that...he used that...he twisted your natural, youthful, sensitivity...your body is designed to respond to stimulation, and he made you believe that reaction was a choice...and that it indicated consent...and preference..._

 _It didn't...consent is a choice...you had no choice..."_

His head is buried in my chest, hidden from my eye now... but for the first time I feel like maybe I'm behaving the way an SVU cop should...

" _I know that SVU wasn't for you...but I saw you deal with those three boys, before the West trial, you were great with them._

 _You know all this..._

 _There is nothing they did that made what West did to them their fault..._

 _There is nothing they did that made what West did okay..._

 _There is nothing that you did..."_

I know how long overdue these words are...but I also know how needed they are...

" _..._ _ **nothing!**_ _Brian, sex is supposed to be fun, it's supposed to feel good, but that wasn't sex...it's not sex if it is coerced, if one of the participants is crying or pleading 'no', or frozen in fear...it's sexual assault..."_

I let these words settle in before continuing softly...

" _I know you know what good sex feels like..."_ I'm smirking at him now, when he chooses to look up he will see I am not embarrassed... _"...we had some really good sex..."_ his eyes swipe quickly up to mine, _"..._ _ **that**_ _wasn't sex..."_

If this was some sort of TV show, some idealized, and ultimately positive way to break taboos, and even help people deal with their own experiences, then Brian would open up, he would see the error of his ways, he would understand how damaging the little voice in his head was, the one that has always told him he was no 'innocent', and deserved what happened to... **no!** what was done to him! But unfortunately, as I look at the man before me, I can see that my words won't have any miraculous reaction today...

He is pulling at his hair, his desperation, his self-hatred all too clear...

I had a relationship with this man, I know him too well...

" _I'm not one of your fucking victims Liv! I don't need the victim speech! And I don't need your pity!"_ the words don't surprise me but they still hurt.

" _You've done your_ _ **duty**_ _..._

The bitterness spat into the final word makes it hard to hold back the tears that I have been fighting, to greater and lesser success, since understanding why Rafael sent me here...

" _You're not, and never have been a_ _ **duty**_ _Bri..."_

He looks at me with disbelief, _"Yeah...Saint-fucking-Olivia..."_

I know that he has shut down...that there is no talking to him...he is too hurt to deal with the emotions battering him, so he falls back on his tried and true method of getting by...his self defense...and my emotions are too raw to be able to deal with his self hatred turned into caustic comments...

" _I'm here for you...when you need me..."_ I start to tell him, pulling myself from the floor.

I have no idea how long I have been crouched and twisted uncomfortably, but my body is protesting as I straighten up.

" _You came to me when you needed help proving you didn't kill West...this is the same... I'm here, when you are ready..."_

He turns away, but I lean in and press a soft kiss to the top of his head, knowing that it can say what I can't find language for...

" _I'll call you later..."_ I whisper, heading towards the door, but his " _humpf"_ makes it clear he has no intention of answering my call...

I just shake my head softly, updating the sentiment with the clear intention of not being dissuaded for too long... _"I_ _ **will**_ _talk to you soon..."_

Before I pull the door behind me, I see him still crumpled on the floor, he is staring blindly, at the window, more because it is the farthest point from where I stand, than any desire to look further than this room...

I want to go back inside and take him into my arms...to keep trying to talk...but I find I'm exhausted...and unable to separate my own needs from the situation...

I realize with regret, that I am not a cop seeing a vic... god, he would hate me to use that word...I am not a cop talking to ...someone who has been hurt...and recognizing their need for time to come to terms with what they have suffered before they are ready to engage with me...

I am a shocked and shattered friend... who wants nothing more than to help her friend but doesn't know how... and needs time to come to terms with this shocking revelation herself, before she can help anyone else...

For some reason, I find myself thinking of that stupid safety announcement on planes that we all studiously ignore...put your own mask on first, you can't help others if you don't help yourself...

I leave him with something I heard on a TV show that has stuck with me... _"Brian, some ghosts can only be banished by speaking their name and foul deeds aloud..."_

Walking away from the apartment slowly, it takes an inordinate amount of energy...as my overthinking brain starts to pick through memories of when we were a couple...

Were there obvious hints? Even before Lewis? That I missed?

Or was he someone who didn't really show any of the obvious signs?

If this were a sculpted reality, a scripted version of a childhood abuse story, I would be comforting my ex, my friend...we would be starting to smash down the barriers left behind by such an immense trauma.

But this is cold hard reality. Where his anger, his enforced vulnerability, and years of semi-successful, but yet detrimental coping methods, are stretched beyond what he can deal with...he is hung-over and sleep-deprived, and most probably feels as powerless as his 12 year old self...

I wish this _were_ some TV show.

The ultimate modern day escape...where even our horrors are fixable in an hour long, relatable version of society with a mostly, positive spin...not all the time, because there has to be some sense of reality...but enough, something to grasp on to, when you are drawn in to make sense of your own horrors. People...well, me, would say the right things...and thirty-something years of hurt could start to be undone...I wouldn't be too upset and damaged myself to help him...and he would easily accept my offered and imperfect help...

But reality is harsher than TV can show.

Horrors aren't condensed into an hour-long spotlight with some snippets of follow up, at least there is some follow up in the good ones anyway. Real trauma is ugly...it isn't linear or clean...some days are just gut wrenching pain with no discernible trigger...and sometimes what you want to say is impossible for your mouth to form...the people around you, even the good ones, don't have all the answers...they don't say the right thing...they try to hug you because they love you and want to comfort you when they have no words, even as you flinch and pull away because that touch is tainted by horror...real people don't have a script, they don't have time to plan their reaction...they do the best they can...even when their best is woefully insufficient...I'm not saying that people don't heal, they do...it just doesn't look like it does on the screen...

If only this was a TV show...but then again how often does a straight, middle aged, male, regularly recurring, character disclose hidden sexual abuse from their childhood?


	8. Grief

**A/N This has been beta-ed by the lovely and very helpful Amilyn. Thank you for the fabulous feedback, and any idiocy or typos are all mine!**

CASSIDY

As the door closes behind her, I can barely hold back the pleas for her to stay... It takes almost more than I have left in me, to stay quiet.

She needs to leave. She doesn't need to see this...

I know I'm not the most self aware of men…..but even I know I can't hold back the incoming tidal wave of emotions.

And I am not her problem anymore.

My chest hurts...like my insides are pulling apart...the 'secret' that has festered for so much of my life is growing, developing with every gasping breath until it feels like my body can no longer hold it in. It doesn't seem possible that mere hours ago, this 'secret' was contained in this human shell, semi-successfully restricted to a seldom-visited, but never opened box.

It was never forgotten, always there, hovering in the background. A silent hand, guiding my life. Likely changing events, I can't even begin to pinpoint.

I wonder how it changed me? How different would I be, if this hadn't happened to me?

I hate the weakness that is spilling out…..a fucking pity party never helps anyone.

There doesn't seem to be much escape as my very next thought is the conversation that will undoubtedly soon be had, between my ex and my soon-to-be ex-boss. It's almost funny... like the set up to some lame comedy-drama movie. But there's nothing funny about child abuse.

Is that what it was? Really?

I've spent so many years dodging words like that... dodging thinking about it...

There is safety in not naming it...

Yeah but look how that has worked out for me...

I'm way too old to be curled up on the floor, sobbing like a fucking snotty nosed kid... I need to get up and man up!

 **Yeah cos men don't get raped!**

It's hard to believe there is anything left to lose, but the final threads of control snap.

I must look like some wild animal...thrashing about on the floor...

But all the years of dammed-up feelings, all the denial...it's gone...there's nothing left to protect, nothing left to hide...just **nothing**...

 **I let a guy do...that...to me...** **and everyone knows...**

It has been a long time since I've had clear memories of... **it**...

That's not to say that I don't remember...but it's been ...different...for so long... time has softened the images I, at first, could never close my eyes-hell, even **imagine** closing them-without seeing...

I've felt that squirming, twisting helplessness...that frozen inability to act...

I've woken to sweat-soaked sheets, sure that my body was being stolen again...more times than I wish to concede...

I hate to admit, I've cried until I could hardly breathe through my blocked nose... not even, all that long ago...

But it hasn't felt like **this**...

 **This**...this has a rawness, a brutality, an intensity I'm not familiar with...

As time as gone by, the details that were once sharp...have blurred...they're not forgotten, not by any means, but it's the feelings, the perceptions that are stronger...

I don't remember the shirt I grabbed as I tried to push him away; was it green?...or was that the uniform shirt that I could never separate from the memories that haunted me?

His face isn't clear, it's like a partly-loaded image, or a badly drawn monster-ish caricature...but the way his mouth 'twisted'... **that** is high definition...

The competing, fragile bubbles of terror and disbelief inflating inside me, even now, are still all too easily revisited...but I'm not sure if I screamed? Or actually pleaded...did I even plead? Did I even do that much?

I remember being pinned down, his hands, his body, caging me into place...but I can't remember how we got there? Did I try to run, even before I really understood what was happening? Or did I always **know**...from his first harmless 'attention'...

In recent years I've become very familiar with the haunting, incomplete snatches of memory...the sickeningly intense feelings, without the corresponding visuals, like a corrupted file, or a movie being watched with closed eyes...were my eyes closed then?

But now it's like an avalanche of ... **everything**...I can almost feel hands...and _things_... touching me...and I'm trying to escape, even though I know they're not there...not anymore...but I can almost see his massively hulking frame lurking over me...

I'm vaguely aware I must be hyper ventilating...but completely incapable of doing anything useful, except sobbing and curling into myself... knowing it didn't save me **then**...

I have no clue how much time has passed...but I'm cold, and cramped...and so incredibly tender...

My face is tight from all the tears that have dried on my skin...

I wish Liv was still here...even though I would hate for her to see me like this...I wish I didn't always push everyone away...maybe if I could actually feel warm arms wrapping carefully around me without feeling exposed and at risk?...

But I can't...I can't let anyone in. It's not that I don't try... I try to do the things that other people take for granted. And when I'm hiding behind my full defenses, when I feel safe, I can do a reasonable imitation of normal... I can charm, and flirt...but it feels wrong. I feel so ashamed. I can't help wondering if that is how I drew **his** attention...

I wonder if that is something else I lost because of **him**? That easy flirting... It wasn't something I had really practiced. Hell I was a kid! And maybe I'm remembering it wrong...but I'm sure it felt different.

That list of things I lost, seems to be never-ending... or were they things I never had?

Why am I still blaming **him** for things he took from my 12 year old self?

Why am I letting a few bad experiences rule my life?

I've had plenty of sex, plenty of sexual experience…why the fuck can I not forget **that** …..

My ass hurts, and for a second, I actually believe I've been through it again...but it's just the complaints of a middle aged man's body after hours on a hard floor...

A rough gurgle, that may have intended to be a laugh, hitches into more tears...

" _I didn't want it..."_ I whisper, over and over...until the words are barely recognizable... _I'm not like_ _ **that**_ _... "I'm not gay..."_

I hate that, at moments like this, whispering the words " _I'm not gay"_ brings me comfort...

The internal 'Liv' voices her displeasure and I could imagine the pursed lips, and disapproving look that would greet such a statement...

When I think about the words myself, I'm ashamed...it makes me sound like...well, like what so many people think I am: an absolute asshole!

I really don't have any negative feelings about gay men...why would I?

Yet I can't deny the comfort I get from the statement...

My SVU training kicks in at the oddest times. It was so long ago, but for some reason I can always remember _"there is no sexuality in rape...it's not about sexual attraction or desire, for the perp_ _ **or**_ _the vic...and any arousal of the vic is not evidence of consent..."._

And I have never believed otherwise.

But... I spent so long, terrified that I **was** gay, _after_...

 _ **I**_ didn't... _work_ the same... **after**...

The things that had me fascinated...the things that made me... _hard_...in seconds, didn't have the same effect...but yet my body had responded **then**...

When I was terrified, crying, in pain...when I had no control... **then** my body **worked...**

I heard my father shouting at the TV, using words not acceptable today...to belittle men, and I didn't want to be a disappointment...

I'm a grown ass man now...I don't care who another adult choses to bring to his bedroom...or to share his life with...so why the fuck does whispering " _I'm not gay"_ bring comfort even now...?

I feel like the caveman I've so often been accused of being.

Not for the first time, I wonder how much of this Reggie is suffering with now?

To the outsider, he seemed to be doing ok...until his brother was hurt...and he felt pushed into murder, in an attempt to protect him...

But hey, I seemed ok all this time too...

Now that I'm alone, I can't help wondering what Barba thinks of me.

" _I don't care! He's a flashy bastard! Walking around in his showy suits, as if he is better than all of us..."_

 **I do care though**...he may hold my career in his hand.

I've tried to accept that I'm done, in any type of law enforcement after fucking up the case...I deserve it! But I can't help the tiny hope...

And, as much as I hate to admit it, I care what he thinks of me... he didn't seem completely disgusted, a little uneasy perhaps, like he didn't know what to do…

He did send Liv to me... but I'm not sure I could ever look him in the eye again...he **knows**...

I'm so desperate for some sort of comfort, I curl into a little ball on the cold, hard floor, and try to imagine Liv here. What would she say?

I'm mentally sorting through some of what she said earlier, and find myself stuck on the secrets she shared with me...

I hadn't known she'd been assaulted before Lewis... and from what little she told me, how could she, for one instant, think it wasn't serious?

She told me before I even told her why Barba had sent her over!

Or had she known all along, and just wanted me to say it?

No...I saw her reactions... **she didn't know**... _She really didn't know!_

I guess I owe Barba for that. He didn't tell her...I think she would have felt more betrayed if she had heard it from him instead of me...

I've never seen her so open...she tried to use her own experiences to help me...

 _ **Fuck!**_

When I think about what she went through...handcuffed, UC as a prisoner...fighting a prison guard...who beat her...and she worried she was weak?

That realization sickens me...I can't imagine what Fin walked into...or how close it must have been for her to admit her partner saved her from rape...

Fuck! My stomach heaves and I barely swallow back the rising nausea.

I wish I had actually processed some of this while she was still here...she deserved so much more than whatever half-sympathies I was able to spit out...

But no, she was right...they weren't "sympathies", like in the early days after Lewis, I spent so long just looking at her, almost afraid to lose her from my sight, in case it was a dream, and we didn't have her back.

I would look at every scrape, every bruise, every lump of another bandage or dressing under her clothing , the heavy cast on her wrist...I would try to read her story from the wounds left behind...I would watch her eyes because they told the truth when her lips tried to hide it...I was so desperate to help her, to hold her, because for those long days she was gone I was terrified I would never be able to hold her again...

When she caught me looking, she would see something other than the pain I felt at how badly she was hurt; I would struggle to not keep touching her, pulling her into my arms, because I was afraid of what memories I would trigger, but **she** felt it was that I didn't want to touch her…and she felt I was trying to show sympathy...but it wasn't sympathy. Just like she said she wanted me to see in her face, it was compassion...

I don't deserve compassion the same way she did...what happened to me isn't the same as what she went through...

What that woman has suffered is almost unbelievable.

She would hate to hear me say it, but she's been so close to being raped TWICE.

And maybe what Lewis did was worse than rape.

I don't know the details...hell, today she gave me more information than ever before, but what she suffered at his hands was continued, depraved, sexual torture. She was violated in every way that sicko could think of.

I just wish I had a hint of her strength.

I was no innocent. Liv was right. ...Me and a couple of my buddies had been ogling playboys, and then we got our hands on some beaten up porn mags...I cringe as I remember my younger self...

It seems so tame in comparison to the 24-hour on-demand smorgasbord of porn available now, at the click of a button, on any device...but it's not normal for a 12 year old to be so enthralled by...such _filth_...is it?

I can't help looking down at my crotch... the irony is that sometimes it seems as though **it** is the only part of me capable of feeling...

For too long, **it** let me be a 'man'... **it** proved I wasn't gay... **it** proved I was ok, living a 'normal' life...

 **It** that ruined my life...also let me show how much of a **man** I am...

As long as I could get hard, as long as I could satisfy a woman, I knew I was ok. I wasn't 'damaged' when I wasn't flinching away from sex...

I'm just not great at relationships...

But now that softness reminds me how broken I truly am...

My dick doesn't work anymore...

I know it seems like such a stupid thing to worry about... and maybe worrying about it would be terribly premature...

I chuckle juvenilely, at my own choice of words...hey, you can't go off prematurely when you can't even get it up, to start with...

My life is falling apart, my secret is out, I'm about to lose my job, and here I'm worried about how my junk isn't jumping to attention...

 **Fuck!**

I'm not seeing anyone, it's not like there is any expectation, any need to perform...but that doesn't relieve the pressure. What kind of guy can't do the most basic male thing?

Somewhere in the back of my head, my training is whispering that it's not uncommon to experience...this...in the wake of an assault or disclosure of an assault...but it feels like such a massive blow to my masculinity...

Even the thoughts of my own, oh too familiar hand, reaching for my dick for anything more than basic bodily demands makes me flinch...

I've felt like this before though, like sex may actually make me sick,….in the immediate wake of Lewis' torture of Liv.

The heavily-splinted hand cradled protectively against her torso, the bandages and dressings she battled to change herself to prevent me seeing what they hid, the fear-filled eyes, the flinches when she felt any unexpected contact... I paired them with what I knew of Lewis' previous crimes and my imagination spewed out horrific scenarios, even more so when I slept... For a while, my entire libido went into hibernation. Every trace of arousal seemed to vanish, and when morning found me hard, my stomach turned queasily, until my flesh softened.

I'm a middle-aged man...it's not even like it's really a problem...I was pretty wasted last night and very emotional, I wasn't even really horny, I suppose it was more 'a familiar comfort'...but that one instance was more than enough to confirm my hopeless failure.

When I've slept...when I don't feel like I'm gonna puke any minute...I'll settle down with some of my favorite porn and just refuse to quit until **it** works...

I look down at my lap and try to swallow back the nausea accompanying another betrayal of my own flesh.

I also try not to allow the realization that I may have a lot more 'free time' in the near future, to take root.

 **I let a guy do...that...to me.**

 **It happened.**

My brain seems unable to let that recognition go...even though it is not exactly news.

It was so long ago. Another lifetime. Why the fuck am I still so stuck on it?

My 'secret' has just been pulled out into the light...something I've fought so hard, for so long to avoid...

 **And I just told Liv...**

I'm a fucking coward.

I want to be more like Liv, to deal with my demons, but instead I sit here, a useless, cowardly lump...watching life pass me by.


End file.
